


monster men

by Rebldomakr



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry dies and makes a deal with Death, Horcrux Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 14:31:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16976346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rebldomakr/pseuds/Rebldomakr
Summary: When you die and are sent back, you leave something behind. Harry died twice. When he dies the third, and final, time, Death offers him a deal; restart with all of your missing pieces, to never lose them again, with a small exception to help a unfortunate soul.





	monster men

“ _Avada Kedevra!_ ”

Harry barely sees the green before he’s closing his eyes. The sounds of the Death Eaters and the forest around him fades rapidly, feeling overcome with a strange sense of calm. He can feel himself fall, but then he keeps on falling even as he knows his body is horizontal. So, he opens his eyes to see where he is only to not have the faintest clue.

He closes and opens his eyes again. Still the same blank white ceiling that doesn’t seem to stop, more like a sky, not like a hospital room. Slowly, he begins to push himself up. He expects his muscles to ache, but he doesn’t even feel the grind in his right knee like he has been for the past year. His fingers don’t ache and the muscle on his face underneath his eye doesn’t twitch involuntarily every ten seconds.

Looking around, Harry senses a vague familiarity. Like he’s been here before, but he just can’t remember when he was last here. He thinks he’d remember being in a place like this. Pure white sky-ceiling with a ground that feels carpeted though completely smooth and all white. He can’t see a single shadow anywhere, but he can’t find a single source of light, either. It seems just be.

As he stands himself up, he sees his own hands. The fact that he doesn’t see a single wrinkle or even dark hair across his knuckles isn’t even as strange as this place that he is in.

“Is this death?” Harry wonders to himself.

Has he finally died? At the hands-

“It’s nice to finally see you in soul.”

Harry jumps and twists himself around quickly, taking a half-step back when he sees a woman that definitely wasn’t there before. Where did she even come from? He hadn’t heard a single noise before she talked. “Who are you?” He asks.

The woman is tall. Long platinum blonde hair falls well past her shoulders, like if Draco Malfoy grew out his hair, but her skin is as pale as everything in wherever they are at. Her eyes are the strangest. When Harry tries to look into them, it’s like he can’t focus and it just makes his head ache.

“I am the one you know as Death.” She says and though she’s just talking, it feels like she’s singing. It’s a gentle tune and softer yet louder than anything Harry’s ever heard before. “Before you ask, yes, you are dead.”

Harry holds back a laugh. “I died at the hands of a teenager.” He says.

“Ah, but a teenager you raised.” She says. She begins to walk closer to Harry. He doesn’t step away from her. “How does it feel to be dead?” She asks.

“Better than living.” Harry says. “I mean,” He pauses and shakes his head. “I don’t really feel, right now, physically.”

“You have no physical presence anymore.” She says. “The aliments of life cannot touch your soul.”

Harry smiles. “You said it’s nice to meet me in soul.” He says.

Death laughs. “You are fairly more accepting of death than most mortals. I might assume you intended to die.” She says.

“No.” Harry says. “I just know I was going to die eventually.”

“Everyone dies.” She says. “Even if they’d rather not.” She walks away now and when she moves to the side, a simple bench appears.

The bench stretches out enough to fit up to three, but the single figure on it doesn’t bother to take up any space. The being is cloaked all in back with a hood drawn over their head, looking down to the ground, hands hidden underneath long sleeves.

“He has made such terrible company.” She remarks. She sits against the armrest on the opposite end of the figure. “His soul is so shattered that he can’t even feel death. He bounces reality to reality. Occasionally, he surfaces here, but mostly he roams the living world as an unseen incorporeal being.”

“Is that-“ Harry stops himself. “It’s Him.” He says.

She nods. “It is.” She stands again, sighing. “Poor thing. I’ve never pitied a human soul so much. So few souls are born without the capability to feel in the living world. He’s the first to have shattered himself so deeply that he cannot even feel here.”

“He feared you.” Harry says.

“He still fears me, darling.” She corrects. She places her hands on her belly. “I have tried so many times to help recreate him, but he is resistant to my touch. So much so that he’d rather be in pain.”

“You want me to do something.” Harry realizes. “To help him.”

“Truly a man of favors.” Death laughs again. “Yes, Harry, I need you to help me help him.”

“Why do you want to help him?” Harry questions. “He hates you, he did this to himself.”

“He was never allowed to feel while alive!” The gentility fades rapidly from the woman’s features, replaced with rage. “He could have! But no one ever loved him! No one ever gave him the chance to trust and to love except for a damned snake!”

The world – whatever it is that Harry’s in – trembles as she stomps her foot. A shadow finally appears as the ground cracks open. An eerie screech pours out of it.

“Why do you even care?” Harry asks, stunned. “You’re Death. Aren’t you beyond this?”

She calms slightly. “I’ve pitied many souls before.” She says. “And I have always helped them. I refuse for him to be the first I can’t.”

“I can’t do anything to help him. And if I could, I wouldn’t.” Harry says. “He killed my parents, he’s a terrible-“

“Harry, you’ve died before.” She says. “It I pitying Albus Dumbledore that allowed you to live. His greatest regret in life had not been his sister’s death or losing his only love, but his direct meddling into your life. He begged me to help you, so I agreed to allow the soul piece within you to die first.”

“I don’t remember being here.” Harry says.

“No mortal does if they go back.” She says. “You were here twice before. At a year old, Lily and James Potter begged me separately for your life. More than each other, they loved you, and were so willing to give up existence itself for you. So I sent them on to the afterlife and you back to life. Then again, at seventeen, when you should have died and not the soul piece! Albus Dumbledore begged for your life. And again, I sent you back!”

“I don’t owe you anything. That was them!” Harry says.

“Every time a mortal goes back to life, something stays behind because a soul cannot withstand being sent back to where they were.” She says. “Harry, think of how you raised your children.”

“I raised them right.” Harry says, frowning, beginning to shake his head when something strikes. The memories of yelling, the shaming, the arguments. Guilt and disgust rises up from his stomach. “I-“ He starts, confused.

“You’ve been missing parts of yourself.” She says. “Wouldn’t like to redo life at the beginning, with everything? I can rewind existence and have you grow with all the parts of yourself at the beginning, with…A small exception.”

“An exception?” Harry asks, frowning. “No, I don’t-“ But he stops, again. Memories keep on popping into his head like they are getting plucked out of his subconscious. “I was so terrible to my own children.” He whispers, horrified.

“Wouldn’t you like another chance, while whole?” She persists. “All I ask if that you share your love.”

“My love?” He asks, confused.

“The ability to love within you will be split between yourself, and him.” She gestures to the figure on the bench. “When you are born, completely whole, you will stay that way. I’ll protect you from death until your seventeenth birthday. Every Killing Curse or fatal disease will deflect or fade away for your total health to return.” She continues on, ignoring Harry’s reactions of confusion and surprise and self-hate. “But upon your birth, half of your ability to love will go to Tom.”

“Is half even enough? How can anyone be happy with just half the ability to love? No, I don’t want to do this, I’ll just live with my mistakes instead of repeating only to turn out worse.” Harry says.

“Half the ability to love gives you both an amazing chance to grow it out to fullness.” She says. “Even someone who can’t feel can grow feelings when someone feels those feelings towards them. Tom was born with nothing, but he was only ever met with disgust, anger, fear, surprise, and distrust. He was never offered any feelings of happiness or love. Not truly enough, anyways.” She sighs. “Positive things are harder to grow than the negative.” She admits.

“So, a complete restart?” Harry says. “And, what?”

“Take the deal, Harry.” She says. “Your parents will have grown complete love within you by the time you’re eleven, I know. They love you too deeply. Tom will require more time, but it’ll be enough for a better start. Maybe a better end, for him.”

“He’ll still get here broken.” Harry says.

“No.” She says confidently. “I believe in his ability to fix himself.”

Harry looks at her. “Will I still have my kids? So I can raise them better?” He asks.

“You will have all three.” She says.

“Fine.” He says. “I’ll do it.”

Death smiles and reaches out, closer than she seemed to have been. “Perfect.” She says and clasps her hand tight onto Harry’s shoulder.

Everything begins to go dark. The last thing Harry sees is the figure moving, the head falling back, to see a skeletal head wrapped in a thin layer of skin whispering something to him.

**Author's Note:**

> will this be continued? who knows


End file.
